


Resolutions

by PumpkinDoodles



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fake Dating, New Year's Resolutions, That gym meme
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28730580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy never planned on pretending to date Brock Rumlow. She just wanted the gym discount.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 185
Kudos: 533





	1. Small Acts of Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by:
> 
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Jane,” Darcy announced, “I’m doing my new year’s resolutions differently this year. 2021 is going to be a totally new deal.” She and Ian had just broken up before Christmas. For what Darcy swore was the final time.

“New deal?” Jane said from across their SHIELD lab. “How?” She had a wrench in her hand.

“This is the year of single me,” Darcy said. “Packing up Ian’s stuff made me realize how much time I spent on him. I’m going to take that time and give it back to myself. Like a regift,” she joked. “I’m regifting my time.”

“Okay,” Jane said distantly. It was clear to Darcy that Jane didn’t get it. But she’d figure it out soon. Darcy had clocked the time she spent on Ian—making his favorite foods, doing his laundry, generally trying to make him happy—and it had dawned on her that she could treat herself that way, too. And Jane was always quoting that Katharine Hepburn thing about doing what you liked because at least then one person would be happy. What did she want, Darcy wondered? It had been so long since she’d given her own happiness much thought. She wanted to add more pleasant things to her routine. Pleasures. Darcy started a list on her coffee print notepad:

  1. Read a book every week 
  2. Give herself fun manicures 
  3. Go to all the free museums and hang out, absorbing the culture 
  4. Make that cake from the holiday magazine that had been on her nightstand forever 
  5. Take a photo of something cool or fun every day (DC landmarks, puppies, flowers, her new manicure)
  6. New haircut (she put a ? next to this one)
  7. Learn how to make hazelnut lattes at home
  8. Listen to music I like that Ian didn’t like
  9. Find a yoga or pilates studio (??? next to this one)
  10. Cook some meals I like that Ian didn’t like
  11. Play music at home, especially during dinner
  12. Buy a new plant for the lab (must research)  
  
  




* * *

  
  
Week One

Book: John Baxter’s _The Perfect Meal_

Song that Ian hated: Lana del Rey’s “Caught You Boy”

Meal: Shrimp and grits from the back of the Crook’s Corner bag

Darcy was leaving she and Jane’s SHIELD-funded apartment when she bumped into their neighbor. Literally. She had physically collided with the man in tactical gear as she was trying to carry a plant. It was a big, expensive orchid she’d bought herself for the lab, in lieu of Ian’s birthday present. “Whoops, I’m sorry, Commander Rumlow,” she said. 

“Yeah,” he said. The dark-haired STRIKE leader was sort of terrifyingly scarred and taciturn. “Nice flower, Lewis,” he said. He glanced at the floor. “You dropped something.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Darcy said, when he bent and picked up her list of resolutions. “That’s my New Year’s Resolutions,” she explained. “And the plant is for the lab.” She expected him to immediately pass it back. To her surprise, he actually read the list, cocking his head to one side. He was silent for a beat, frowning. Darcy wondered if he was habitually unhappy or if his injuries had made him so stern.

“Nice list,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m trying some new things this year.” 

“Lemme carry that,” Rumlow said. He took her orchid.

“Thanks,” Darcy said awkwardly. She trailed him onto the elevator, feeling like a mom watching someone else carry her baby. What if he dropped it, she thought? It was sixty dollars. Then it dawned on her that he had definite plant-lifting biceps. His scarred muscles were impressive. She was eying one when she realized he’d caught her. “You probably go to the gym a lot,” she said quickly, hoping he wasn’t offended. “I’m looking for one. Maybe.”

“Yeah,” he said, expression unreadable. “What kind of gym? I, uh, have a couple actually.”

“More than one gym?” Darcy said reflexively. “I want to try yoga or pilates.”

“SHIELD gym, boxing gym, martial arts, and Absolute Core,” he said. At her blank expression, he added. “Pilates gym.”

“Ohhhh,” Darcy said. “You do pilates?” She couldn’t help sounding incredulous. He smirked, scars twisting.

“I didn’t want to be one of those big guys who makes a fucking crunching sound when he lowers his arms,” he said. Darcy laughed. “And it’s a great place to meet women,” Rumlow added as they got off the elevator.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, grinning at him. He grinned back.

“If you try it, you should mention my name, I think they do a friends and family discount,” he said.

“Okay,” Darcy said. She paused. “Thank you,” she said, when he passed back her orchid.

“No problem,” he said. “Hold on.” He took out one of his SHIELD business cards and wrote down the gym’s address for her. “Just mention my name,” he repeated.

“Thanks,” she repeated. He tucked the card into her hand.

“You sure you don’t want me to carry that to the car for you?” Rumlow said.

“Well, okay,” Darcy said. “Sure.” He took the plant gently. Maybe she’d misjudged him, she thought. Their moment of eye contact was interrupted by a horn honking.

“Is that Foster?” he said, squinting at her vehicle.

“I left her in the car,” Darcy confessed.

  
  


* * *

“What are you doing?” Jane said, as Darcy taped something to the lab wall behind her desk that afternoon. She’d read a post about filling your life with small acts of happiness. She’d found it online by happenstance and decided to print it out and hang it for inspiration. It looked cheerful behind her orchid.

“Making life more fun, Janeybug,” Darcy said. “Did you want shrimp and grits tonight? I was just thinking about grits.”

“I get shrimp and grits?” Jane said, sounding excited.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “Now that Ian’s not around, we’re having grits whenever we want.” Ian had hated grits. Darcy had been trying to think of things she’d given up because it was too difficult to cook two meals. That was one of them.

“Really?” Jane said.

“Yup, I just need to run by the grocery store for that good Irish cheddar,” Darcy said. 

“You could go now,” Jane said. She was clearly onboard with Darcy’s plans. “I’ve just got to finish these tabulations.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “I’ve got the cold bag.” They kept an insulated bag for ice cream transportation in the trunk of the car.

She dropped by Absolute Core on the way back to the office. It was on the way. The pilates gym looked really nice. In an expensive way, she thought dubiously. When she walked up to the front desk, she pulled out Rumlow’s card. “Um, hi,” she said. “I wanted to sign up for a new membership. And I qualify for the, uh, discount?” she said. 

“Whose friends and family plan are you on?” the woman asked, after Darcy had given out her name, address, and swiped her credit card.

“Um, Brock Rumlow?” Darcy said. 

“Oh, I see,” she said, grinning. “Same address. He’s such a nice guy.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, confused by how delighted the woman seemed and that the monthly fee was lower than she’d expected. It was a great discount, she thought.

“Janine will give you a tour, show you the machines and the group classes,” the woman told her, waving at someone passing by. “Rumlow’s on the unlimited plan. But I’m sure you knew that.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, totally lost.

“Hi, I’m Janine,” the other woman said, walking over and shaking her hand. “I’ll show you around.”

“Great,” Darcy said. The tour was interesting. Darcy peered into rooms where groups of people--mostly women--did movements on pilates reformer machines. Janine explained the class levels and costs. Before she left, Darcy signed up for a “Centered and Balanced” class for the next afternoon. It was supposed to be all light stretching.

* * *

There was a knock at the door as Darcy was stirring grits and grating cheddar that night. “Just a sec!” she called, rinsing her hands before going to the door. She opened it after peering through the peephole. She recognized the man leaning against her doorframe. “Commander Rumlow?” she said, confused.

“You, uh, told the Pilates gym we were dating?” he said, without preamble.

“No?” Darcy said. He sighed.

“I went in tonight and everybody kept asking me about my new live-in girlfriend,” he said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Darcy said. “And my grits are bubbling.”

“Your what?” he said. He was looking all stern and serious again.

“My grits--obviously, there’s been a mistake,” Darcy said. “Come inside.” She shut the door behind him and hurried into the kitchen. “I need to stir,” she said, worried they’d be lumpy or burned to the bottom of the pot. She sighed in relief as the agitated grits came up normally. “I did not say girlfriend, I swear. There’s been a miscommunication at the studio. I’m sure we can fix this--hey!” Darcy said. He was stealing some of the grated cheddar off her cutting board. “That’s my cheese,” she said, as he ate the slivers he’d pinched between two thick, scarred fingers. He smirked again.

“Invite me to dinner and we’re even,” he said. “I won’t tell the gym.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. It was a really good discount. “Have dinner with us?”

“Deal,” he said. He shook her hand--then stole one of the slices of bacon she’d cooked and set aside.

“Brock!” she said. His name sounded weird to her ears. Who was even named Brock, she thought? She felt suddenly sheepish and awkward, like she’d said the wrong thing. But he didn’t seem upset or bothered. 

“You like white wine, right? I’ll get wine,” he said.

“Okay,” Darcy said, discombobulated as fuck. She peered out of the kitchen. Jane was working in the living room, oblivious. “Rumlow’s staying for dinner,” Darcy called.

“Who?” Jane said.

“Our neighbor from across the hall,” Darcy said.

“Oh, yeah,” Jane said, clearly still uncertain. 

  
  


When Rumlow got back, he was carrying a bottle with a golden screw cap. “Oh,” she said. “New Age. I love New Age.” It was a fizzy wine. She’d had it before. 

“Yeah,” he said. “You ever have it with lime? I brought lime.” 

“No,” she said.

“Had it that way in a Thai restaurant once, it’s fucking great,” he said. He called out to Jane. “Hey, Foster.”

“Hi,” Jane said, head still in her notes. 

“Do you need a knife--oh,” Darcy said, as he pulled a knife out of his jacket. “You carry a knife.”

“Several,” he said, rinsing it before he sliced the lime neatly in his hand. It was a good trick. 

“Well, aren’t you Crocodile Dundee,” she whispered.

“Nah, that’s Rollins,” he said. “Where’s your wine glasses, sweetheart?”

“Cabinet next to the sink,” Darcy said. She was still stirring. “I’m about to cook the shrimp,” she added. Her mushrooms were sauteing. He nodded, pouring wine into the glasses that he’d edged with slices of lime.

“Try that,” he said, passing her a glass. She lifted it to her lips. The smell of fresh limes--aerated by the bubbles in the wine--hit her nose first. Then she tasted wine and fruit. It was a mixture of sharp and sweet, bubbly and tart. 

“Ohh,” she said. “That’s good.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Really good,” Darcy said. He nodded. He was helpful in the kitchen, she discovered, as they finished cooking together. He even watched things while she put music on the living room. They were putting their bowls on the table when she looked at him. “Rumlow?” Darcy said.

“Yeah?” he asked, adding more wine to her glass.

“If I’m keeping your discount, doesn’t that mean you’ll have to pretend to be dating me at the gym?” she wondered out loud.

“Yeah,” he said. 

“That’s going to impact your dating life,” she observed dryly.

“Shit,” he said, frowning. They were briefly interrupted by Jane’s arrival at the table.

“Ooooh, shrimp and grits,” Jane said, thunking happily down in her chair. She looked at Rumlow. “Hi,” she said. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“He brought wine,” Darcy said. She looked at Rumlow. He grinned at her.

“You’re not going to tell her that we’re living together now?” he said. Jane didn’t react.

“She’s not paying attention to me,” Darcy said. Jane was joyfully eating her meal.

“Mmm, this is so great, Darce. Why did we stop having this?” Jane said, beaming.

“Thanks,” Darcy said, scooping a little of the mushrooms and green onions onto her spoon. 

“Why did you?” Rumlow said.

“My ex hated grits,” Darcy said. 

“The guy from the list?” he said.

“Yes,” Darcy admitted. 

“I promise never to take your grits away while we’re a fake couple, Lewis,” he said jokingly.


	2. Better Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Still Week 1:

2021 Resolution Activities on Darcy's calendar: Pilates + new manicure

Song: Tift Merritt's "Mixtape"  
  
Projects To Distract Her From Wasting Years with Ian: DIY splatter painted jacket 

* * *

“Extend your legs in a circular motion slowly,” the pilates instructor called out. They were doing leg circles. Darcy stretched out, tried to circle her resistance band-strapped feet in opposite directions, and immediately got her motions all screwy. It was like being a confused marionette.

“Shit,” she muttered. Darcy had left Jane in the lab to go to her first class. She was struggling to follow along as the small group did exercises on the reformer machines. It was a smidge embarrassing. Everyone else in class seemed more experienced and thinner than she was. Also, it looked like no one else had dug an old, too-tight exercise tank and a pair of tie-dyed pink leggings out of the back of their dresser. She yanked a little at the tank where it was rolling up over her stomach. The instructor circled around as they repeated their circles. This time, Darcy got her feet in better order. 

“Doing okay?” the instructor asked. 

“I do know my right from my left,” Darcy said, “my feet just aren’t cooperating with me.” The instructor nodded and spoke seriously.

“Because these are motions we don’t consciously do a lot, sometimes it takes practice to train the mu--,” she began, then broke into a beaming grin. “Look who’s checking in on you!” she said brightly. Darcy looked over towards the glass windows around the door. Brock Rumlow waved at her, then stepped into the doorway.

“Enjoying your first class, baby?” he asked, smirking in what Darcy thought was a too-knowing way. Was he trying to make it obvious that they were faking? 

“Yes,” Darcy said. “I’m having a great time, _honey.”_ He actually winked at her then, crinkling the scars around his eye. 

“She’s struggling with her leg circles,” the instructor told him. Darcy gaped at her in surprise. Wasn’t there a girl code? Gym HIPAA? Why would you rat somebody out like that?

“Oh yeah?” Brock said, moving over to them. He looked smug. “I’ll help her, Shannon.”

“Great,” the instructor said. She moved over to another student and Brock grinned down at Darcy.

“Show me, sweetheart?” he said.

“I have trouble doing this when people are watching,” Darcy said, trying again. He made a tsk-tsk noise.

“Here,” Brock said, grasping the underside of her calf. “I see what it is. Move like this. Small circles until you’re stronger.” He guided one of her legs through the motion of a smaller circle and she tried to mimic with the other leg.

“Small circles?” Darcy said, puzzled. 

“Yeah. Don’t flop around, because if you’re just throwing your leg out, you’re not in control of the movement. You wanna be working with control of your movements, okay?” he said, voice gentle. 

“Okay,” Darcy said, feeling a mixture of self-consciousness and determination to do better. To her surprise, Brock lingered all during her class, helping her with various movements. She was on her side, doing a single leg stretch when he reached down and adjusted her shirt carefully. “Thank you,” Darcy said, blushing. It had rolled up again, revealing a pale swath of skin. She felt acutely aware of her belly, but pushed the thoughts away. Ian’s fault, she registered, remembering how he would poke or squeeze her and either laugh or make little comments about the weight she’d gained since they met in London. She’d once overheard him point her out to someone else at a conference as “my girlfriend….the brunette in glasses who’s a bit weighty?” Darcy had been gutted. It had hurt her so badly she hadn’t been able to confront him. It was one of the reasons Darcy had resisted joining a gym all during their relationship. She was afraid he’d be smug and she’d be hurt all over again.

“You’re doing great,” Brock said, calling back her attention as he rested his hand on her hip for a moment. 

“Oh,” Darcy said. That was when she realized the woman on the adjoining machine was looking at them. “Thank you, baby,” Darcy said, playing along.

“You’re so lucky,” the woman said, sighing enviously.

“You hear that?” Brock said, looking all smug again.

“He’s going to be impossible,” Darcy said, peering around Brock’s thigh. “Just impossible.” She looked at him again. “Baby, are you flexing?” she said, extra loudly.

“I’m not flexing,” he insisted, clearly flexing. There was laughter from the rest of the class. He preened as they finished and Darcy sat up. He was talking to the woman next to her and reached back to touch Darcy’s shoulder as she yanked her shirt down again. When he looked back, she realized his eyes had gone immediately to her boobs.

“Don’t say it,” she grumbled, putting her shoes on. _Everyone_ talked about her boobs.

“I’m not saying anything,” Brock said, holding his hands up in mock-surrender. “I like your earrings,” he added. She was wearing a pair of cute earrings that she especially loved. They were silver clouds with rainbow colored drops that looked like rain.

“Ohhh,” the woman he was talking to said. “Someone knows how to stay out of trouble!”

“Pffhhht,” Darcy said, standing up. “He puts on a _really_ good show.” She didn’t expect him to reach for her hand, grinning.

“Let’s get dinner on the way home, sweetheart,” he announced. 

“Okay,” Darcy said. “It was a great class,” she told the instructor, as he led her out of the room. “Wait, I need to get my stuff!” Darcy said, pulling against him when he made a right, headed for the studio’s exit. He was practically immovable.

“Yeah?” Brock said, turning to look at her.

“Why are you so strong?” Darcy said. 

“Big weights,” he said dryly.

“It’s ridiculous. I need to go to the lockers,” she said. You locked up your bag and your stuff here. He followed her, being all touchy feely, as she went the opposite way and stopped in front of the right metal box. Inside, Darcy got her messenger and her scarf. She was adjusting her scarf around her neck when he flicked her earring slightly. “Hey!” Darcy said. “No flicking!”

“They’re very you,” he said, reaching for her hand again as soon as she put her arm down.

“I love them,” Darcy said. She sighed.

“What?” Brock said.

“The ex thought they were tacky,” Darcy said in a low voice.

“So, he was an asshole?” Brock said, leaning in. She nodded. “Don’t let him get to you,” he added quietly.

“It’s difficult when someone becomes that voice in your head,” Darcy said, shaking her head. She felt the earrings swing against her skin and caught him grinning at her again. “Shut up,” she murmured at his smirk. They left together. He held her hand all the way out into the parking lot. 

“You like pizza?” Brock said. “There’s a great place--”

“You were serious about dinner?” Darcy said. “I thought that was all undercover Brock.”

“Undercover Brock?” he said, looking at her curiously.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “Man of secrets and flawless fake identities. Once pretended to be a famous painter--” she joked. He snorted.

“Painter? I look like a painter to you?” he said.

“Painter, cop, thief, cowboy, all the Village People, really,” Darcy said. “I assumed dinner was another of your tricks, Commander.”

“Nah, I’m just fucking hungry,” he said in a light voice. “Follow me?”

“Okay,” Darcy said. She was standing next to her car when one of her classmates walked by. She waved at them.

“Bye!” the woman called. 

“Bye!” Darcy said. She was busy waving and didn’t expect Brock to lean in and tickle her. “Ahhh!” Darcy shrieked, genuinely startled. He laughed and held her up. “Cut that out,” she muttered, as her classmate laughed at them.

  
  


* * *

“Jane, what kind of pizza do you want?” Darcy asked, calling her on speaker as she followed Brock across DC. “We’re getting pizza.”

“Pizza?” Jane said. “Who is we?” There was a thunk on the other end of the line.

“Me and Rumlow,” Darcy said. “He stopped by the pilates place during my class and now he’s showing me a good pizza place. Please don’t set anything on fire while I’m gone--”

“Oh,” Jane said. “I’m not! Oh, shit--I gotta go!” She hung up abruptly. Darcy listened to the dial tone for a second.

“She’s totally setting something on fire,” she said out loud. She pulled into a parking lot behind Rumlow and called Jane as soon as she’d found a space and cut off the engine. “Answer the phone, Janeybug,” Darcy murmured. It rang and rang. She was staring at her phone when he rapped on her car window. Darcy opened the door. “Sorry, sorry,” she said. “I was on the phone with Jane and now I think she’s set the lab on fire.”

“Oh yeah?” he said, grinning. “I’ll find out.” He got his phone and dialed. “Hey, Jimmy. This is Rumlow. Yeah. Can you send somebody up to Jane Foster’s lab--they’ve got it handled? Great.” He hung up and smiled at Darcy. “Fire’s out. She’s fine.”

“Thank you,” Darcy said, getting out of the car. 

“But your lab’s been evacuated,” he said. “So, we should probably eat here.”

“I agree,” Darcy said. “I’ve had enough smoky meals, really.”

“Happens often, huh?” he said. 

“More often than you’d think,” Darcy said, as they went inside. She was mid-slice when she caught him grinning at her. “What is it?” Darcy asked, puzzled.

“You make, uh, happy noises when you eat,” he said. She groaned in embarrassment and his smirk widened. “Sorry, professional habit. Paying attention to people,” he said.

“I thought I didn’t do that anymore!” Darcy said, sighing. 

“Uh-huh,” he said, clearly amused. 

“Thank you for helping me in class today,” Darcy said. “I’m a little gym-phobic.” She didn’t want to talk about her weight. Especially not with someone as fit as Brock Rumlow.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, gesturing with his pizza crust. “I was impressed by your New Year’s Resolutions,” he told her, setting the crust down. Darcy followed the crust with her eyes and decided something. She was saving the other part of her pizza for Jane--Jane happily ate pizza cold. And Darcy adored pizza crust. He’d made a pile of them.

“Are you eating that?” she said.

“You want ‘em?” he said, pushing his plate towards her. “Go ahead.”

“I love pizza crust,” she said happily. She wasn’t going to let her insecurities be a thing with her new neighbor, for goodness sake. And it wasn’t like he was interested in her, either. She’d seen a gorgeous blonde leaving his apartment more than once, although it had been weeks ago. The blonde had been really fit-looking. Toned arms, the whole thing. Darcy dug into his pizza crusts. There was no way she would ever have visible biceps, so why worry? He grinned at her as she munched and waved a waiter over to get her more marinara sauce, like a peach. “I went to the gym today!” Darcy said, shimmying a little. 

“The rest of your list is pretty fucking great,” Brock said. “What gave you the idea to do fun resolutions? Other than the shitty ex?” 

“Well,” Darcy said. “He was a true inspiration, being so shitty and all. But I had all these things I wanted to do and I decided this was the year I would take all the time I spent on him and spend it on fun instead. I’m regifting my time,” she said jokingly. He grinned at her.

“You got any fun plans for this weekend?” he asked.

“Oh!” Darcy said. “I bought a denim jacket and I’m splatter painting it like Jackson Pollock. I really liked these jackets from the GAP and my terrible ex”--she made a face--”thought they were too childish and expensive, so I didn’t buy it. I went back to buy it later and my size was gone. Absolutely vamoose, never to be found again. But then, a miracle!”

“Yeah?” he said, looking confused. 

“I found a DIY tutorial online, so I’m getting my damn jacket,” she said. “I’m sure this is very boring to you, compared to saving the world with Captain America. I’m a very boring person, I’m sorry. My other big activity is learning fun manicures...” She mimed snoring and falling asleep. He grinned.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not at all.”

“I can totally tell when you use your Undercover Brock voice to mislead,” Darcy said jokingly. He really laughed then. 

When they went back to SHIELD--Brock had reports and Darcy needed to check on Jane--he introduced her to a very tall, fearsome-looking Australian. “Jack Rollins,” Brock said, “this is my next door neighbour, Darcy Lewis.”

“Hi,” Darcy said, shaking his hand. “Cool rings, my dude.” Rollins was wearing a bunch of heavy silver and turquoise rings. “They remind me of nights in New Mexico I was too drunk to remember.”

“Thank you,” he said, startling her with a beaming smile.

“Oh, you’ve fucking done it now, Lewis,” Brock said. “The man loves his tacky ass rings.” 

“Oi, that’s harsh,” Jack said.

“He obviously doesn’t appreciate flair,” Darcy said. “We’re people of flair and he’s over there in his all black, being Mr. Tactical.”

“I’m tired of being Mr. Tactical. I keep trying to get ‘im to appreciate a good bit of man bling,” Rollins said, clearly used to this line of teasing. 

“Life needs color,” Darcy agreed. They chatted before she realized how late it was. “Oh, shit! It’s very nice to meet you, but I’ve got to go make sure Jane hasn’t set anything else on fire. Brock thank you for the pizza and I’ll see you around--” Darcy said hurriedly, taking the box.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “See you, sweetheart.”

“Pizza?” she heard Rollins say as she left.

* * *

“Since when do you eat pizza, mate?” Jack asked him. Brock frowned and peered back at his coworker.

“I eat pizza,” Brock said. “Sometimes.”

“The hell you don’t,” Jack said, laughing. “You don’t even look at a bloody carb. Do you like her or summat?”

“Summat,” Brock repeated dryly. 

“Don’t mock my God-given dialect, just because you like a girl,” Rollins said, grinning like a shark.

“Who’s this?” Sharon Carter asked, stepping into the office. “Who does he like?”

“Darcy Lewis,” Brock said.

“Oh, yeah, she’s cute,” Sharon said. Brock looked at her. “What? I can’t think somebody’s attractive?” she said. He shrugged.

“Why not ask her out on a date, then?” Jack said.

“I did,” Brock said quietly. 

“And?” Jack said.

“She has to paint her jacket this weekend,” he said, sighing. 

“What?” Sharon said, laughing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh, that’s just a new one.”

“Can somebody explain what she said?” Jack asked, looking perplexed. “Paint her jacket? I don’t get it?”

“She’s got these New Year’s Resolutions to do fun stuff now that she broke up with this asshole she was dating for years,” Brock said. “So, she’s working on a project this weekend.” He sighed. “Unless she’s not ready to date and just fucking being nice to me,” Brock added. He rubbed his jaw. “I can’t tell.”

* * *

“Hey!” Darcy said brightly, catching Brock as she came back from the craft store on Saturday. “I bought paint. And canvases. I might be crazy.”

“Yeah?” he said, grinning. “Might?”

“Would you like to hang out and watch me pretend to be Jackson Pollock for an afternoon?” she asked. “I realized once I bought paint for the jacket, I’d still have a lot of paint, so I’m making, um, new apartment art?”

“What kind?” he said, taking her bags so she could unlock the door. 

“I have no idea,” Darcy said. “I’m winging it. This could be a total flop.”

“Where’s Jane?” he asked, when they went inside.

“I put her down for a nap, she pulled an all-nighter last night,” Darcy said. She scrunched her nose. “Okay, I’m putting down these tarps I _borrowed_ from work. I’m going to return them, I promise.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “I have a quarter million and a bunch of guns I’m gonna return eventually.” His expression was deadpan. Darcy burst out laughing. 

“Coffee or beer?” she asked, once she was able to talk again.

“Uh, coffee?” he said.

“Are you unsure?” Darcy said, perplexed by the way he’d hesitated. “I would make sure you got home okay,” she teased. 

“I don’t know, that’s a dangerous hallway,” he joked. “I’ll stick with coffee. What are we listening to?”

“Hmmm,” Darcy said. “You feel like some early Bob Marley and The Wailers and maybe a little Jack Johnson and Mishka?”

It was fun to paint with him, she realized. For one, he was very enthusiastic about his own splats and drips and kept telling her to add more to her jacket. Darcy had planned on some restrained flicks of blue and pink, but he convinced her to do more colors. “Why not go for the whole goddamn spectrum?” Brock said, dripping blue onto a red background. He dabbed a paintbrush in purple and grinned at her. 

“Okay,” Darcy said, feeling oddly enabled. 

“You want some orange?” he asked.

“Hell yes,” she said.

Darcy had splattered paint all over her jacket and Brock was working on his second canvas when Jane wandered out of the bedroom. “What’s going on?” she asked, patting her bedhead and yawning.

“Beautiful things,” Darcy said.

“Okay. Is there coffee?” Jane said.

“Yes,” Darcy said, watching as Jane stumbled into the kitchen. She looked at Brock. “Did you want to stay for dinner?” she asked, expecting him to agree. But he frowned.

“I can’t,” he said. “Romanoff set me up with somebody.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, disappointed. He looked at his paint-covered hands.

“And I should probably go figure out how to get this off,” he added. Darcy caught herself audibly sighing. 

“A real dilemma,” she said.

“You mind letting my stuff dry here?” he asked, grinning. 

“Not at all,” Darcy said. He called out a goodbye to Jane as he left.

“He left?” Jane said, emerging from the kitchen.

“He had a date,” Darcy said.

“This wasn’t a date?” Jane asked. Darcy scoffed.

“I’m totally not his type,” she said. “Don’t be silly, Janeybug.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your obligatory DIY tutorial for a splatter painted jacket. Yes, I love it; no, I will not be taking criticism on how juvie it is, _Ian:_ https://ohjoy.com/my_weblog/2018/01/a-diy-splatter-paint-jacket.html
> 
> And a similar project from Cassie Stephens' amazing blog: https://cassiestephens.blogspot.com/2016/05/diy-kid-created-paint-splattery-1950s.html
> 
> So, I gave Darcy a pair of rainbow cloud earrings because I love them and I wanted to imagine her fishing out all the things Ian used to tease her about and putting them on like, "so there!" https://www.etsy.com/listing/115076839/rainbow-raindrop-silver-cloud-earrings?ref=shop_home_active_17&sca=1


	3. You Deserve A Gold Star

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“So, of course, we’ve got those internal reports due that week,” his date said. Brock repressed a sigh. This was his Romanoff set up. Her name was Megan and she worked in analytics at SHIELD. She was perfectly nice. She just wasn’t Darcy Lewis. He nodded politely—and then decided to interrupt.

“Do you ever do anything,” he began, then paused and rerouted his sentence to avoid rudeness, “I mean, what do you do outside of work?” he asked. She grinned.

“I’m kind of a workaholic,” she said. 

“Yeah,” he said, disappointed.

“It doesn’t leave me much time for anything serious,” she added. “I like things...casual.” Megan’s smile was flirtatious. “Casual fun,” she told him.

He smiled back, but it all felt oddly depressing. He didn’t even want to be at this table. 

“I, uh,” Brock said, “appreciate that, but I’m not sure if casual’s for me anymore.”

“Because of your burns?” she said, expression shifting to something between panic and embarrassment.

“Something like that,” he said, grateful for a convenient excuse. “But don’t worry about it.” 

Was he an idiot, preoccupied with somebody who didn’t want him, he wondered?

* * *

Almost Week 2

Book: John Baxter’s _The Perfect Meal (abandoned); new book needed_

Album that Ian hated: Putumayo's Jazz Cafe

Meal: Three-cheese quiche

Impulse purchases: two (technically)

Darcy didn’t run into Brock for two days. People asked about him at the gym, of course, and she played along, but it was hard not to be jealous of his actual date. “How’s Brock?” her pilates instructor asked, when she went to a class during her lunch break.

“Great,” Darcy lied, wondering if he was kissing a prettier woman somewhere. Someone who looked like she belonged in a pilates studio. “I miss him whenever he’s not around,” she said, not lying this time. She swung her ankle into the air on the Reformer. “Especially since he’s not here to spot me,” she added, wobbling slightly. “Ahhh!” Her instructor laughed. 

“You two are very cute,” the woman told Darcy. 

“Thank you,” Darcy said, struggling to engage her core. “Unfortunately, he got all the ab muscles. I’m just a vehicle for pasta and chocolate.” The students around her chuckled. She finished the class feeling like she’d really worked out her muscles. If she looked around in case Brock was there, no one noticed. Probably not.

When she got back to SHIELD, she swung by the break room for coffee. One of the STRIKE Alpha agents was sitting at a small table with a young girl. They looked like they were working on something. “Hi,” Darcy said.

“Hi,” the agent said. He turned to the girl. “Emily, this is Miss Darcy,” he said. “She’s Mr. Brock’s friend,” he said. Darcy’s mouth dropped open in surprise. Who had told him that? What did that mean?

“Um, yeah, okay,” she stuttered, blushing slightly. “And this is your daughter?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Her middle school’s year-round and she’s on a break, so it’s daddy-daughter day.”

“Cool,” Darcy said. “I did year-round, it was fun. We got to change electives a lot.”

“I like the breaks,” Emily said.

“That too,” Darcy said. When she got closer, she realized they had trays of beads and jewelry-making equipment.

“We’re making necklaces, it’s her new hobby,” the agent told Darcy. Emily squinted at the charm she was stringing on a piece of silk thread.

“I’m going to sell them,” Emily said in a serious voice.

“Oh yeah?” Darcy said. “Can I buy one?”

“Yeah,” she said, turning to look at Darcy curiously. 

“We got tons of things here,” the agent told her. “Hearts, birds, all kinds of stuff.” Smiling, Darcy peered at a row of necklaces, all on colorful thread.

“Oh, that gold star,” she decided, choosing a star on a blue chain. It would go with her earrings, she thought. In feeling, at least. “I deserve a gold star.”

“Sure you do,” a familiar voice said behind her and Darcy jumped in surprise. It was Brock. She turned to find him grinning at her. “How much do I owe you, Miss Adkins?” he said. He’d already taken out his wallet.

“What? No,” Darcy said, gesturing. “I can buy my own gold star!”

“Twenty bucks,” Emily said. 

“Deal,” Brock said, unfolding a bill over Darcy’s protests. Emily passed Darcy the necklace. He handed her the twenty and grinned at Darcy. “Let me help you with that, sweetheart,” he said. Darcy tried not to blush as he put her necklace on. She felt very conspicuous, all of a sudden.

“People asked about you at the gym,” she said. 

“I made an impression, huh?” Brock said. Darcy realized Adkins was grinning at them. Emily had returned to stringing charms on her thread, focused on her work.

“Yes,” Darcy said, touching her necklace. “I just got back. I’m just getting coffee.”

“Why don’t you help her with that?” Adkins said wryly. Brock gave him a look.

“Don’t be a wise--wiseman,” he said, catching himself before Emily heard him call Adkins a wiseass. Adkins laughed. After she was finished making the coffee for her and Jane, Brock walked her to the lab. “I’ve been meaning to stop by, say hello,” he said.

“Yeah?” Darcy said. “I’ve needed your help in class. We’re doing hundreds. I nearly died.”

“You look pretty alive to me,” he said warmly.

“Barely,” Darcy said. “Barely.” They grinned at each other. “So, since you bought me this necklace, I feel obligated to ask you to dinner,” she said, beaming. “I’m doing a whole quiche thing, like a boss.” Brock’s smile fell.

“Shit,” he said. 

“You don’t like quiche?” Darcy said.

“I have another blind date. One of Romanoff’s things,” he said, frowning. “I’m sure being with you would be more fun, honey.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, unable to hide her disappointment. 

“You’re upset,” he said.

“No, no,” Darcy said. “You’ve got a date. I can’t expect you to be a sad single with me forever.” She was aiming for breezy, but he didn’t smile back at her. 

“You’re not a sad single,” Brock said, looking grim. 

“This whole conversation feels really sad person-y, though,” Darcy said. “So”--she lifted her coffee and pasted on a bigger grin-- “have fun on your date. I hope it’s really great.” She attempted to move around him, but he caught her arm.

“Damn it,” Brock said, rubbing his jaw. “Don’t be mad at me, all right?”

“I’m not mad,” Darcy insisted, startled. “Besides, you can’t disappoint Natasha. She loves setting people up.” He frowned and rolled his eyes.

“I wish she’d stop,” he complained. 

“I’m really not upset, Brock,” Darcy said. She looked at his hand on her forearm. He sighed. 

“Well, fuck, I am,” he said glumly. “Mad at myself.”

“Why?” Darcy said, tilting her head. She didn’t understand his emotional response. He was was actually grimacing.

“I’m missing quiche,” he said. Darcy tried to think of something to say.

“What if you love this woman? She could be great, you don’t even know yet,” she told him. “This could be your, um--next great adventure or something?” That sounded good, didn’t it?

“Yeah,” he said, letting go of her. 

“We’ll have quiche another time,” Darcy said. “This is just my first practice run with quiche anyway. Maybe it can be all four of us or something?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, still frowning. 

“I’ll see you later, neighbor!” Darcy said. She went into the lab and he stood outside for a moment. 

“What’s wrong with Brock?” Jane asked.

“He has a date,” Darcy said. “I invited him for quiche and he has a date.”

“Boooo,” Jane said.

“Double boo,” Darcy said. Brock was walking away, looking back. Darcy huffed out a sigh. 

“Don’t be sad,” Jane said. “There’s still quiche.”

“We’ve always got quiche,” Darcy said dryly. 

“He looks sad,” Jane said. 

“You think so?” Darcy said.

“Yes,” Jane said.

“Pffht, stop trying to butter me up, I’m already making you dinner,” Darcy said. “I need to recheck that recipe.” She went to Pinterest. She had saved it online. There were a lot of eggs in quiche, as it turned out.

“What else is on your list?” Jane asked.

“A haircut? I was thinking of bangs,” she said.

“You should get bangs,” Jane said.

“But you hate bangs!” Darcy said, feeling stunned.

“I can grow and change,” Jane said, looking pleased with herself.

“He bought me a little necklace,” Darcy confessed. “One of the STRIKE guy’s daughters is making them in the break room. I was saying I deserved a gold star and he paid for it.”

“Awwww,” Jane said. "There are necklaces in the break room?"

"She has a planet one, if you like mine?" Darcy said, turning so Jane could see the little star.

* * *

He was ready to leave for his date when his phone rang. It was Romanoff. “Rumlow,” Brock answered crisply. “Tell me it’s an international emergency?”

“What’s wrong?” Natasha said.

“I don’t want to go on this date,” he said, shifting the phone closer. “I’d rather jump out of a plane.” There was a laugh on the other end of the line.

“Well, you’re in luck, it’s an international emergency. I already called Rachel and rescheduled for you,” she told him. “You’re jumping out of a plane.”

“Great,” Brock said, relieved. After they’d hung up, he changed back into his tactical gear and his work boots. He was locking his front door when a thought occurred to him. He knocked and the door opposite opened slowly. 

“Hey,” Jane said. “I thought you were the delivery guy.”

“I thought you were having quiche?” he said. “Hello.”

“I’m waiting on some books,” she said. “Book delivery, not food delivery.” She stood there for a second. “Did you want to see Darcy before your date?” she said, looking at him in a too-knowing way.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s not--I’m going on a mission, not a date.” He followed her inside the apartment. There was music playing inside. It sounded retro.

“She’s in the kitchen,” Jane said. “Darce, Brock’s here to see you before he leaves.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, turning. She was wearing an apron. “Hi,” she said. “You’re leaving for your date?”

“It’s a mission, not a date,” he said quickly. “Date's cancelled. I wanted to, uh, ask you--”

“Yeah?” she said. 

“To save me some quiche?” Brock said quietly.

“Okay,” Darcy said. He stepped closer. “I’ll save you some quiche.” She was all pink from working in the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t want to have quiche with anybody else,” Brock said, taking another step. They were very close to one another now. 

“Mmm-hmm,” Darcy said, grinning and nodding.

“I, uh, just wanted to--” he began, before his wrist alarm went off and she jumped. “Shit, sorry,” Brock said.

“You have to go immediately?” Darcy said, catching his wrist and studying the alarm.

“Yeah,” he said sadly. He silenced it. She looked into his eyes.

“Did you need me to water your plants?” she asked, worrying her lip.

“I don’t have plants,” he said.

“Good,” Darcy said, beaming again.

“Good?” he repeated, confused by her grin.

“I’m terrible at watering plants,” she said. He laughed. 

  
  


* * *

“God, this book is depressing me,” Darcy said, setting down _The Perfect Meal_ on the coffee table with a sigh. Jane was happily working on the couch and Darcy was curled under her favorite shabby blanket in the chair.

“I thought you liked it?” Jane said, looking over with a frown. They’d eaten dinner together and Darcy had tried to distract herself from thinking about Brock being on a mission by redoing her manicure and reading her book. She had made a great quiche. She just wished… “What’s wrong with it?” Jane said, clearly assuming it was about the book.

“It was good at first,” Darcy said. “But I guess I’d never thought about how they murder an entire mama fish for caviar.” She made a face and scrutinized the polish she’d done. It was a rainbow glitter mix. Maybe it was a little messy, but she’d get better with practice. 

“Ick,” Jane said.

“I didn’t need to know that. Not that I’ve ever had caviar, except that one time we went to that fancy restaurant Pepper likes and you know how that went,” Darcy said. 

“You were sick for days,” Jane said.

“My body isn’t meant for fancy food,” Darcy said, shuddering a little. “But now he’s talking about some sort of siege of Paris and I just cannot with slaughtering all the zoo animals and the taste of elephant meat. You know how I feel about elephants,” Darcy said, as Jane cycled through a round of horrified faces.

“Don’t finish it. You don’t have to finish books,” Jane said. “We’re adults, we can quit them now.” She looked thoughtful. “Watch the video of the baby elephant with the ribbon,” Jane advised. 

“It’s too soon for the happy baby elephant,” Darcy said. She looked at the book and glared slightly. Had it ruined happy baby elephant forever? “You’re right. I’ll donate this one to the library. Get another book,” she decided out loud. They had a donate box in the corner of the living room. She picked up the TV remote and flipped channels as Jane went back to work. She’d gone through several channels when Jane sneezed. Darcy looked over. “We forgot your allergy meds,” she said.

“It’s okay, we can get them tomorrow,” Jane said. 

“No, I’ll get them now. Maybe I can grab a fun paperback,” Darcy said, getting up. “It’s still pretty early. Do you want any snacks?” she asked. She knew that the secret to not being sad was staying busy. And giving yourself small things--cheap paperback books, happy little cans of Orangina, the smell of freshly ground coffee--so you had things to look forward to on a daily basis. She’d borrowed the idea from a blog. 

“Sour cream and onion chips,” Jane said. “Take my debit card.”

“Already in my purse,” Darcy said cheerfully. “I’ll be back soon.”

Darcy was going down the aisles near the pharmacy when she spotted something rainbow-hued on an end cap. It was a display of big, happy-faced plushes. Darcy loved stuffed animals. Ian had mocked her for hanging onto a sock monkey she’d bought on a whim. This was exactly the sort of thing he’d hate--but Ian wasn’t around anymore to complain about her maturity level. She could do whatever she felt like doing, she thought. Even start wearing the candy-scented products she loved that he’d said had given him a headache. She hadn’t even thought about them. Her Warm Vanilla Sugar lotion was in the back of the bathroom cabinet. She could order some Outremer Vanille again. It smelled like marshmallows and sugar. She hadn’t replaced her last bottle. But she could do that now, she realized. 

Grinning to herself, Darcy picked up a rainbow hued unicorn from the shelf of Squishmallows and left the store smiling.

* * *

They were on the quinjet when Romanoff walked over to him. “Why are you spurning Rachel?” she said, giving him a fractional smile.

“I, uh, just wanna be single right now,” he lied.

“Really?” she said. “What changed?”

“Nothing,” Brock muttered. He wasn’t going to confess his feelings for Darcy to Romanoff. He had no idea what she might do. And he wanted to talk to Darcy first. Really talk. He felt like they were never going to get their timing right.

“You are worse than Steve,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn't think it was possible. Why don’t you let me set you up with a few more people?”

“Nat doesn’t know?” Sharon Carter said, walking into their section of the jet. “He’s got a thing about Darcy Lewis. He can’t stop smiling whenever she’s around. We all think they’re secretly dating.”

“Don’t tell her that,” Brock grumbled in a low voice.

“You’ve been hiding this from me?” Romanoff said, crossing her arms.

“He bought her a gold star necklace from Emily Adkins,” Sharon said gleefully.

“It was twenty bucks!” Brock said defensively.

"I see," Natasha said.  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Putumayo albums are the perfect background music albums: https://www.putumayo.com/jazz-cafe
> 
> So, I'm basing the gold star necklace on those Dogeared wish necklaces that came on different thread colors with cute little cards:


	4. New Activities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Ahhh!” Darcy said, as she sat in the salon chair. “Jane, am I crazy?” Jane was sitting nearby, videoing the proceedings for Darcy. She’d pinned a bunch of bangs inspiration--photos of Liv Tyler and Jeanne Damas--and had decided on bangs that were blunt and dramatic. She hoped they’d look cool and not like she was a sheepdog with hair in her eyes.

“No,” Jane said. “It’ll be cute, I swear. Totally cute.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, tilting her head and gazing into the mirror as the stylist approached. “Bye, bye, forehead,” she joked out loud. She held her breath as the stylist snipped the first strands and hair cascaded down into her lap. “Are you getting this?” she asked Jane.

“Yeah!” Jane said. She held up the phone. The stylist snipped again. 

Twenty minutes later, she had the thick bangs her teenage self would have envied. “Wow,” Darcy said. “I look so different.” She made a face in the mirror. 

“You look young,” the stylist said.

“It’s way cute,” Jane said. Darcy spent the rest of the day catching her reflection in the mirror, grinning, and flicking her bangs around. They changed her whole face, she realized. Also, her ponytails looked way more fun, too. She kept switching between a side pony and an updo and showing Jane excitedly. 

* * *

When he left SHIELD and came home, he could faintly hear the television coming from Darcy and Jane’s apartment. Should he knock? He wanted to knock. Brock stood in the hallway, debating what to do. He was standing there, blinking, when someone spoke behind him. “Hey,” a voice said. He turned. It was Darcy, carrying a big shopping bag. “What are you doing?” she said, smiling at him. She looked different--she’d done something to her hair, he realized.

“I was, uh, wondering if you were awake?” Brock said. “I just got back. Did you do something different?” he asked, gesturing to her forehead.

“From your mission?” she asked, grinning. “Yeah. I got bangs. Do you like them?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Brock repeated. He nodded, smiling back. “You look great. Were you out?” he asked.

“I was at Walgreens, actually,” she said, smiling. “I have a little problem now. I developed a minor addiction while you were gone,” she said.

“An addiction?” Brock said, wildly curious. There was something large and round in her bag.

“Well, this is my second one this week. After you left, I went to get meds and chips for Jane and something to cheer myself up, too. A Squishmallow,” Darcy said, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I saw a coupon and had to go out tonight.” She held the bag open. There was something rainbow-colored and fuzzy visible. It was a large stuffed animal, Brock realized. “His name is Leonard the lion and he’s a vegetarian, according to his tag,” Darcy said. “So, perfectly safe to have around the house.” She grinned at him. He grinned back.

“Sure,” Brock said. “You want your household lion to be a vegetarian.”

“He has a little tail with a rainbow tip, I love it so much,” she said. She paused for a second. “Did you want to come inside and have dessert with us?” she asked him.

“Yeah,” Brock said, unable to stop smiling. “I’d like that.” He didn’t even eat dessert. Jesus. He realized he’d agree to go fucking antiquing with Darcy Lewis, if she wanted him to. Or one of those boring subtitled movies. Anything.

“Okay,” Darcy said. 

“I’ll hold Leonard,” Brock volunteered, taking the bag so she could unlock the door. 

“Thank you,” she said, cracking the door open. “Jane! I’m back and Brock’s with me--put on your pants!”

“Okay!” he heard Jane yell. Darcy looked at him. 

“We’ll give her a minute,” she said. She reached for Leonard’s bag and their hands touched briefly. “Did, um, your date go okay?” Darcy asked, looking at her bag.

“I cancelled. She was nice,” Brock said, “but not my type.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Too short or not the right haircolor or something?” Her eyes flicked to his face. Brock laughed. 

“No,” he said, leaning in closer. “She just didn’t have her own lion.” 

“Really?” Darcy said. He couldn’t read her expression. There was a moment of tension. He wanted to kiss her--he leaned forward slowly, eyes on her face. Suddenly, Darcy pitched backwards with with a yelp.

“Ahhh!” Darcy said. The door was opening behind her. 

“I gotcha,” Brock said, pulling her into his arms.

“I’m dressed--whoa,” Jane said. “What happened?” 

“She almost fell,” Brock said, letting his arm linger on Darcy’s back.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, holding his jacket. “Whoops. God, this is embarrassing. I’m sorry.” She patted his jacket nervously, looking self-conscious.

“Why are you apologizing? Foster opened the door on you!” Brock said, laughing. “It’s her fault,” he added, pointing at Jane. 

“She apologizes too much,” Jane said. “I’m trying to teach her to stop.”

“She just yells at me to stop apologizing and then I apologize again,” Darcy grumbled, blushing. She was so cute, he thought, feeling stupidly smitten. She set Leonard’s bag in a dining chair.

“That seems like a flaw in your plan,” Brock said, following Darcy into the kitchen. She pulled ice cream out of the freezer and peered into the container. “You need tol--what’s wrong?” he asked Darcy.

“Damn it,” she said. “We’re low on ice cream.”

“I can get more?” Brock offered.

“No, I’ll make blondies, if you can hang around?” Darcy said. She looked at him.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Brock said, feeling like this was his chance to make up for missing dinner. “I can do all your heavy duty stirring?”

“Thank you,” Darcy said. She leaned around the corner of the kitchen. “Jane, I’m making Pop Tart blondies, do you want raspberry or strawberry?” 

“Strawberry,” Jane said.

“Pop Tarts?” Brock said. His expression must’ve been comical; she started to laugh.

“They’re Jane’s favorites,” Darcy said. “It’s my own recipe. Are you impressed?”

“Very,” Brock said. “What’s in them?”

“Pop Tarts?” Darcy said wryly. “They’re really regular blondies with Pop Tarts and sprinkles.” 

* * *

It was weirdly nerve-wracking to mix up her weird blondie batter with Brock watching her, Darcy thought. She was afraid she’d make a huge mess or tip something over. She was whisking some eggs when he interrupted her. “Let me in there,” he said, steering her aside with his hand on her hips and taking her whisk away.

“Thanks,” Darcy said. She felt weirdly embarrassed by her near-fall in the hallway. She had been thinking that he was going to make a move. It had felt so close! And then, nothing. It was all she could do not to sigh out loud. She looked at Brock. He had a really nice back, she thought. Good arms. His scarred biceps were muscular.

“This is nice work if you can get it,” he joked, when he caught her looking. 

“Yeah?” Darcy said, feeling herself blush again. “You’re built for, uh, nice work, huh?”

“Sure,” he said. Then he actually winked at her. “What do I put in this, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Brown sugar,” Darcy said, getting the bag. “Vanilla, some melted butter, salt, flour, and, uh, baking powder, plus sprinkles and bits of Pop Tart.” She scooped out the brown sugar and held it out to him. “Come help me, huh?” Brock said, gesturing with one arm. That was how she found herself wedged between him and the counter, adding in ingredients. It was very cozy and fun. Darcy was laughingly shaking in a bunch of sprinkles into the pan over his horrified teasing when Jane appeared at the edge of the kitchen.

“What are you--oh,” Jane said. Her expression turned canny. “Darce, why don’t you and Brock go book shopping sometime? She doesn’t like her book, so she needs another one,” Jane told him. Darcy had turned around, but Brock hadn’t stepped back. He was still alarmingly close and facing her now. All good-smelling, she had realized. She looked between Jane and his collarbone. 

“You don’t like your book?” Brock said.

“It went bad on me,” Darcy confessed. “I was all happy reading about French cheese and truffles and then _blam,_ horse and elephant meat.” She gestured and then held onto his forearms for a second, then realized what she’d done, pulling them back abruptly. “Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t apologize,” Brock said. “You’re not supposed to do that, remember?” His voice was wry. Over his shoulder, Jane’s grin widened.

“She likes elephants,” Jane said. Darcy could tell that she was attempting to be helpful and getting them together. Matchmaking, even--the little sneak!

“They’re so sweet. How could you eat one?” Darcy asked.

“I would never,” he said, with a kind of mock solemnity that was really cute and charming. It was all she could do not to sigh and throw her arms around him.

“You promise?” Darcy asked. Behind him, Jane left the kitchen, pulling a face at Darcy and mouthing _he likes you!_

“Of course,” he said, smirking. “What do we do now?”

“Huh?” Darcy said.

“Your Pop Tart things?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“We put them in the oven,” Darcy said. 

“Why don’t you come sit?” Jane called, after they’d set the timer. When Darcy rounded the corner, she realized Jane was sitting in the chair. Darcy almost laughed. Jane never sat in the chair. She had clearly moved so the two of them could sit together. 

* * *

“I don’t know what happened,” Darcy said mournfully, staring at her blondie. “These always turn out well.” She looked at Brock. He was trying--very sweetly--to eat one of them, despite the fact that they were awful. “Brock, don’t,” Darcy said. She took the plate from him, after a moment of tugging. He grinned at her. 

“They’re not bad,” he insisted. 

“They’re something beyond bad,” Jane said, emerging from the kitchen. She’d been dumping hers in the trash. “Usually, they’re _great.”_

“I really don’t know what happened,” Darcy repeated, scrunching her nose at the plates.

“It must be me,” Brock said. “I messed ‘em up somewhere.” 

“No,” Darcy said, shaking her head.

“Maybe Darcy was distracted,” Jane said, voice sly. Darcy stared at her. “What?” Jane said. “Ian never helped much in the kitchen.”

“Every story about this guy makes him sound like a real fucking winner, let me tell you,” Brock said. 

“He was an ass,” Jane said. “I don’t know how Darcy put up with him.”

“I have an apititude for very difficult people,” Darcy sassed her. “From years of taking care of you.” Brock laughed at that. She looked at him. “I’m really sorry about dessert,” she said.

“Don’t apologize,” Brock said. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, sweetheart.”

“Awwww,” Jane said. “You should keep him, Darce.”

“I want to!” Darcy said, pretending it was all a big joke and they were being playful. Brock smirked at her. “I definitely want to keep him,” she said.

“Well, uh, I’m amenable to that idea, but I have an early morning,” he said, sighing.

“Yeah?” Darcy said.

“Gym,” he told her. “The boxing one, not our one. I promised Rollins I’d spar with him.” She walked him to the door. 

“I had fun tonight, even if I had a baking fail,” Darcy said. He gave her a gentle look.

“I’m sure it’s me,” he said. “I did something.”

“Nooo,” Darcy insisted. They stood there for a second. She didn’t want him to leave. 

“I had a great time,” Brock said. “I always have a great time with you.” He paused. “And Foster, of course.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, feeling oddly nervous. “Can’t forget Jane! She’s, um, famous.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. To her surprise, he reached for her fingers and squeezed them. “I like the nails, sweetheart,” he said, studying her hands for a second. He stepped backwards towards his door.

“Thank you,” Darcy said, as he let go of her hands. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said. He gave her a final smile and disappeared into his apartment. Darcy shut the door and sighed. When she walked back into the living room, Jane looked up. 

“He kiss you yet?” she said.

“No,” Darcy said. “He’s so great. What do I do, Jane?”

“I could go out one night,” she said. “Give you time alone.”

“Really?” Darcy asked.

“I’d just work late,” she said calmly.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Do you think he really likes me?” Jane gave her a look. “Okay, okay. I just don’t know why he hasn’t asked me out yet.”

“Maybe he’s anxious about his scars,” Jane said. “Ask him.”

“You can’t just ask that!” Darcy insisted.

“Well, you could just wander over to his apartment in nothing but lingerie and a coat,” Jane said. 

“What has gotten into you?” Darcy asked, then thought about it. “I could do that. If I actually owned lingerie.” She sat up a little straighter, went quiet, and then stood up.

“What is it?” Jane asked.

“We’re making this too complicated. Lingerie costs money,” Darcy said. She moved towards the door.

“You’re leaving?” Jane said, following her.

“I’m going to ask _him_ out,” Darcy said. “If he says no, he says no. I’m still awesome.” She opened the apartment door.

“Good luck!” Jane whispered, shutting the door behind Darcy.

* * *

Number of Haircut Inspiration Photos Saved on Darcy's Phone: Five  
  
Number of Disappearing Foreheads: One

Danger of Squishmallow Addiction: HIGH.  
  
STRIKE Commanders Properly Wooed With Baked Goods: ~~One?~~ _(alternative plan in development)_

Darcy took a deep breath and knocked on Brock’s door. There was a long moment of silence. She counted to ten. Darcy knocked again, more loudly. The sound seemed to echo, then she heard footfalls. “Just a second,” he called. 

“It’s me! Darcy!” she yelled. For a terrifying moment, she was afraid she’d gotten him out of bed. Then the apartment door swung open.

“Hey,” Brock said, looking surprised, but not unhappy. He was wet, Darcy realized, raking her eyes from his damp hair down his bare torso.

“Oh,” she said, words stalling out when she got to the towel slung low around his hips.

“I was in the shower,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, nodding reflexively and trying to force her eyes back to his face. It took a minute. When they made eye contact again, he was smirking.

“You okay?” he said.

“No,” Darcy said helplessly.

“No?” he said.

“I was going to--to ask you out on a date,” Darcy stuttered out. 

“Yeah?” Brock said, beaming now. “You’re asking me that now? Right now?”

“You won’t ask me!” she said, flustered and crossing her arms self-consciously, so she wouldn’t touch him. “I just, uh, thought I could ask you. Before you opened the door. I didn’t realize you’d be all--all that.”

“Having second thoughts?” he said.

“No,” she said, finding it impossible not to grin. She turned her head. “Oh God, I don’t where to look!”

“Everywhere?” he said. She swung her face back to him in shock. 

“You’re teasing me,” Darcy said. “But you said it first.” She stepped into his apartment as he grinned at her.

“We’e doing this now?” he said.

“Yes,” Darcy said, seizing his hand. “You can be late for the gym. Sex is cardiovascular. Where’s your bedroom?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I am STILL BUMMED that Kat Dennings' post-2 Broke Girls pilot with NICOLE BYER from Nailed It! wasn't picked up, but she had the world's cutest bangs while they were filming. They're *adorable.* Be saddddd with me!


	5. Lists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Weeks 2 & 3

Gym visits: 2 (membership woefully neglected)

Books: 2

Nights spent across the hall: 7? (lost count)

Actual Dates: 1

“My bed’s that way,” Brock said, laughing. “I haven’t even kissed you yet, sweetheart.” He sounded delighted. She led him into the bedroom.

“Kissing’s extra,” Darcy joked, dropping his hand to take her shirt off. When she turned to face him, his jaw had dropped slightly. “That’s flattering,” she said mirthfully. “You can give me your hand back now. Or help me with my pants?” She wiggled her fingers at him playfully. He caught them and towed her closer. 

“Kiss me,” he said, voice heated. “Now.” His gaze was intense. 

“Bossy,” she murmured, stepping into his embrace. He was so warm, she realized, shivering with pleasure. It was a tender, yearning kiss. He was careful with her. “Mmm,” she got out, grinning, when he pulled back. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she told him. Brock looked down, expression almost shy, then met her eyes and grinned widely.

“Let’s get you out of those pants,” he said. She shrieked as he scooped her up.. 

“Wait, wait,” Darcy said, a few minutes later, when they were both mostly naked and kissing in bed. “I have something I want to say!”

“Yeah?” he said.

“I really like you,” she said. “And your abs are amazing. Oh my God.” 

“Yeah?” His smile widened. She poked at his scarred stomach, beaming. “You okay?” Brock asked.

“No!” she said. “I’m just amazed at the amazingness. This is the result of four gym memberships and a lot of work. Just so much work.” He nodded, scrunching his nose.

“Yeah,” he said. “Every damn day.”

“I used to wonder why you did that,” she said, “but now I know.” 

“Now you know,” he said, kissing her. 

“Hold on,” Darcy said, “I wanna say something else!”

“You got commentary on other body parts?” he asked, smirking slowly.

“No--well, maybe later,” she said, pressing her nose against his nose lightly for a second. “But I just---I know this is weird, okay? A weird declaration.”

“Sure,” he said, cupping her waist and pulling her closer. “I can handle weird. What do you want me to do?” Brock asked. His fingers trailed softly over her skin, up and up and up, and she felt herself blushing. Her heart was racing by the time she felt his thumb rake over her nipple. 

“I’m not there yet,” Darcy said, sighing. “I might get there soon, though. Have a whole list of things for you. I just want to say that I, um, I really like sex.”

“You wanted to tell me you like sex before we have sex?” he said, eyebrows going up.

“Yes!” Darcy said. “I wanted to set a whole tone for--for the potential current and future sex. Make this a sex positive space, okay?” She laughed between words, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and happiness. “No judgment!”

“Not judging,” he said, voice warm. “Keep going, sweetheart.”

“I really like sex,” she repeated, grinning. “Good sex, okay sex, sex by myself--and I want to say it, okay? I enjoy sex and also general affection and all that. The whole spectrum of, um, activities.” He was looking at her quizzically. It wasn’t negative, just curious. 

“The whole spectrum?” Brock said.

“Non-sexual intimacy,” Darcy said. “Like hugs and back rubs and scalp massages and”--she made her voice cartoonish-- _“talking about your feelings.”_

“Oh, no,” he said lightly, “not feelings.”

“Yup,” she said, nodding. “I’m gonna feel you up tonight and make you talk about feelings tomorrow.”

“When can we start?” he said. 

“Now,” she said, then shrieked again when he rolled her over. There was a laughing reach for a condom, interspersed with kisses. They had a moment of eye contact and then he cupped his hands under her thighs and rocked into her with a grin. He was playful and a little reckless. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself feel everything. The weight of his body, the space he took up inside her, the brush of his lips against her cheek. His thrusts grew ragged and less rhythmic. 

“I’m close,” he murmured, breathing roughly. Darcy pressed her hands into his low back, urging him on. She held his gaze for a moment. A jerk of his hips pushed her over the edge. “Oh, ohhhh,” Darcy gasped, clenching around him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, going heavy and slumping slightly. She kissed his jaw and chin. “Lemme get up,” he said.

“Ohhh,” Darcy said, when he rolled off her with a groan. She turned her head to grin at him. “That was fun,” she said. He smiled back and reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. 

“Good fun or just okay fun?” Brock asked. “I know how you like both.” Darcy snorted, giggling.

“Good fun,” Darcy said, raising his hand to her lips. His palm was scarred. She pressed her lips down in a trail from his wrist to his forearm slowly. They were both quiet. When she looked at him, Brock was watching her through heavy-lidded eyes. “I like your arms,” Darcy said. “And your hands.”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to kiss you so badly when we were working on those,” she confessed, gesturing to his splatter painting. It was leaning against his bedroom wall.

“Really?” Brock said. “I was covered in fucking paint.” She hadn’t let go of his hand.

“I—you were so happy and easy to be around, it felt good to be in the same room with you,” Darcy said softly. 

“C’mere,” Brock said, coaxing her closer to him. He shifted her on top of him and wrapped his arms around her stomach. Darcy could swear she felt his ab muscles against her back.

“What are we doing?” she asked, looking up at the ceiling. Every time he breathed, her body rose with him. 

“Non-sexual intimacy,” Brock said, kissing her ear. “Close your eyes?”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “This doesn’t feel non-sexual.”

“Be patient,” he said. “I wanna tell you about the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.” He started talking to her about a beach. “It was in the Bahamas,” he said. “The beach is pink. Soft pink sand, water so clear blue you can see your toes. Didn’t even seem real. I kept looking around, just staring at everything.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “It sounds amazing.”

“You’d think so.” He paused. “I took that trip by myself. With the Crossbones money.”

“Oh,” she repeated.

“I thought it would help me relax,” he said. “But I was just lonely. In the most beautiful place in the world, all by my fucking self.”

“I’m sorry,” Darcy whispered.

“There you go again, apologizing for things that aren’t your fault, sweetheart,” he said, pressing his lips against her shoulder. She felt him kiss her once, a second time, and again. “The point is,” he said, grinning against her shoulder, “that I was happier splashing goddamned paint around in your living room than I was in paradise.”

“Ohhhh,” Darcy said. “That is dangerously flattering to my ego.”

“You need a healthier sense of self-esteem,” he told her, voice tender. She grinned at him, tilting her chin up for a kiss. He pressed his mouth against hers lightly. One kiss turned into several soft, playful kisses.

“You’re probably right,” she admitted. Brock tilted his head.

“Would sex help?” he said. His voice was wry. She nodded and he reached for another condom. They were both quieter this time. 

“I—oh,” Darcy said, as he started to move, thrusting into her. He locked his eyes on her face. 

“Talk to me,” he begged.

“Brock,” she whispered, as they moved together. She repeated his name like a mantra. He stared at her, expression intense. Darcy tucked her head against his shoulder and began to whisper endearments in his ear. “You make me so happy,” she whispered. He came with a shudder, eyes still on her face.

“Shit,” he said. “Too soon.” He looked momentarily thrown.

“It’s okay,” Darcy said. He paused, then grinned.

“Just okay sex, huh?” he asked, cupping his hand between her legs. Darcy laughed joyously as he touched her. She was achy and wild with desire for him.

  
  


* * *

“How’s the new book going?” Jane asked. Darcy looked up from the couch where she was curled in Brock’s arms. She’d gone by the library before he came over this afternoon.

“She’s on page one hundred and twelve already,” Brock said. “But it’s a trashy book.”

“Hey!” Darcy said, making a face.

“You said it first,” he said, grinning.

“It’s the _Finding Freedom_ book about Prince Harry and Meghan Markle and they clearly passed information to the authors _somehow_ —there are so many details about food and designer clothes and how much things cost!” she called to Jane as the scientist disappeared into the kitchen. 

“How do you write a book about that?” Jane called back.

“God only knows,” Brock murmured, sighing.

“With lots of name-dropping!” Darcy called. “And for every mention of the environment, there’s at least two private jet vacations somewhere glam or George Clooney shows up.” Brock snorted.

“I don’t think I wanna know this much about Prince Harry’s love life or his wife’s designer shoes,” he muttered.

“Stop reading over my shoulder and actually watch ESPN then,” Darcy said, giggling.

“Fine,” Brock said. She glanced back at him, just to make sure he wasn’t actually mad. He was grinning.

“We could read a better book together?” Darcy offered. “Hold on, I’ve got the perfect one. Somebody recommended this one to me.” She shifted to climb off the couch. “You stay,” she told Brock. He grinned at her. “Unless you want to read this?” Darcy added, waving the book at him. He made a face.

“Hereditary monarchy is stupid,” Jane said, as Darcy went into her bedroom.

“Your boyfriend is a prince!” Darcy yelled back. Brock laughed .

“Shit,” Jane said. “I forgot.”

“I think it’s very egalitarian of you,” Darcy said, emerging with her book. “That you don’t care who’s a prince. You do care who has a PhD, though. You’re kind of an academic snob.”

“I am not—okay,” Jane said, “maybe a little.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. She plopped down on the couch and passed him the book.

“ _Aphrodite?”_ Brock said, shifting underneath her.

“It’s by Isabel Allende and it’s a memoir about aphrodisiacs and things,” she said, turning to face him.

“And somebody recommended this to you?” Brock said, grinning. “Were they trying to pick you up?”

“Please, they know I like food and perfume and stuff,” Darcy said. “Nobody’s picking me up.”

“I picked you up,” he argued.

“You did not,” Darcy said. “ _I_ picked you up! You didn’t even make a move.”

“I, uh, bought you the necklace,” Brock said, scrunching his nose. “That’s a move.” 

Somewhere behind them, Jane started to laugh.

  
  


* * *

“We should probably go to the gym,” Darcy said to Brock. Her alarm had gone off. She leaned over him to turn it off. Brock had spent the night with her. He looked funny with her Squishmallows next to him as he slept, she thought. He looked up at her now, blinking.

“I thought you’d quit once you snagged me,” he teased. Darcy made a face back at him.

“I like Pilates,” Darcy said. “I’m not saying I’m good at it, but—”

“You’re good at it,” he insisted. “Besides, you’re just getting started. Being good isn’t the point.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and looked happy.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the point?” she asked, relaxing against him.

“It’s the experience,” Brock said. “And being in your body, not just your head.”

“My head?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Some people—really smart people—just treat their bodies like something that carries around their brains, but, uh—”

“Thank you,” Darcy cut in, grinning. “For implying my lack of fitness is somehow intellectual.”

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. Then he looked more serious. “But it’s bad for your stress levels—you don’t have a physical outlet for stress, you’re gonna get overwhelmed sometime.”

“Oh, I have a physical outlet for stress,” she joked, lighting up. He grinned. “But okay, let’s go to the gym.” Darcy got up.

“Wait, what about your other outlet for stress?” Brock said.

“Too late,” Darcy said. “Besides, you’re right, it’s good for me—where did my pajamas go?”

“I don’t wanna be right,” he said. She looked at him and burst out laughing.

“How are you so good at this?” Darcy asked, when she looked over at Brock on the reformer machine next to her. They were doing a lower body-focused class. Darcy thought Jane would crack up when she found out they’d gone to “Booty & Stems” pilates. Not that it wasn’t difficult: she was actually shaking a little. But he hadn’t even broken a sweat. Brock beamed at her.

“Practice?” he said, effortlessly lunging. 

“Booo,” she mock-jeered him. She leaned slightly to make it obvious she was checking him out. “You do have a good booty,” she admitted. He smirked so widely, his scars twisted.

“You wanna do the candlelight mat class after work tonight??” he said. The instructor had mentioned it before they got started. “Can you leave Jane unattended to do a class with me and then go to dinner?”

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Two classes in one day?” 

“I think candlelight is easier,” he said. 

“Okay,” Darcy said doubtfully, trying not to wobble. Jane was going to accuse her of being a pod person or something.

  
  


When they went into work, she told Jane that she’d agreed to go to a second class. Jane turned to her with an incredulous look. “What?” Darcy asked. “I can exercise. Brock says it’s good for my mental health.” Jane tilted her head, looking canny. “Okay, shut up,” Darcy muttered. “I’m in the new relationship phase, I’m agreeing to things I wouldn’t normally do, all right?” Jane started to laugh. “You went to a ball on Asgard in a big poufy dress!” Darcy said, remembering. “And I did your hair with _a curling iron.”_

“Thor said it was pretty,” Jane said. Thor was currently doing a stint on Asgard, but they expected him back soon.

“And later, you said you looked like a pageant queen,” Darcy muttered. 

* * *

“I don’t think candlelight pilates is easier,” Darcy said, as Brock held her hand and they followed the hostess to their table. They were going to dinner after her second class. “It looks easier, but that’s an illusion. Because they keep the room all dark and pretty,” she added.

“Thank you,” they told the hostess in unison, as she put down their menus.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” she said.

“Did I mess you up?” he said, frowning, as Darcy sunk into a chair with a sigh. Her thighs were sore. She slipped out of her splatter-paint jacket and looked up at him.

“Yeah, but you’re going to be the one paying for it with no sex,” she cracked. He grinned. 

“I’ll get you some water,” he said. “You need to rehydrate.”

“I don’t get wine?” she said.

“Some wine,” he said. “But water will help your muscles.”

“This is the fine print I didn’t read before class,” Darcy said, as the waiter approached. But she did try to drink the water, anyway. And she attempted to hit Brock with her straw paper, failing utterly.

“You have terrible aim,” he said mildly.

“My arms are sore,” she said.

“You didn’t throw that,” he said, grinning.

“I--I’m sure I did,” Darcy lied, laughing. “Probably.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you sarcasming me?” she asked. “After I took _two_ exercise classes with you?” She drew out the words. 

“Of course not,” he said. “I would never.” 

“You better not,” Darcy said. “This is our first real date.”

“It is, isn’t it?” he said, smiling. She made faces at him while he ordered and then ordered herself a giant bowl of pasta. Darcy had decided all her exercise was _totally_ justification for pasta. Lots of pasta.

“What else is on your list?” Brock asked, as they ate. She finished a bite of penne.

“Hmmm,” Darcy said. “I’m not sure. Museums?”

“Let’s brainstorm some things to do together that aren’t exercise,” he suggested.

“Yes, I agree,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting to mention that I love epistolary novels like Bridget Jones's Diary, so this is partially inspired by that.
> 
> Sidenote: I really want to do a Darcy fic inspired by this body image post. Send me all your fun prompt ideas that might be relevant. It could be the anti-Thor-in-Endgame fic. https://yespumpkindoodlesthings.tumblr.com/post/642348315268333568/a-character-gaining-weight-because-their-lives-are


	6. Random Acts of Kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Week 5-ish?

Song: Lila Downs' version of “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps”

Books: 2 (finished Isabel Allende’s _Aphrodite;_ begun Rachel Herz’s _The Scent of Desire_ )

Gym sessions: 3

Post-gym coffee dates: 2

Random Acts of Relationship Kindness: 5

“Ahhhhh!” Darcy said, leg flopping awkwardly on the Reformer. Brock looked over at her from the adjoining machine. They’d started going to classes together on Mondays and Wednesdays. 

“You okay, sweetheart?” Brock asked.

“I’m fine, my left leg is just refusing to cooperate and do what I tell it to do,” Darcy said, sighing. She made a funny face at him. He laughed. He was sort of the teacher’s pet in all their pilates classes, between his personal charm and athleticism. Whenever she went to classes alone--because he was out of town for work--people would ask, “where’s Brock?” Last week, it had been five different people. If she wasn’t wildly smitten with him herself, it would have been irritating. Instead, she just told everyone he was working and then posted comically sad-faced selfies of herself with her gym headbands on, confident he’d see them, wherever he was. 

“You just need some muscle memory,” he said. “Keep working on it, honey.”

“Okey-dokey,” Darcy said, lifting her leg in the air again. He was just the right amount of reassuring to keep her motivated. 

Also, whenever she was sore, he gave her yummy massages. Like yesterday. Yesterday had been a great day, she thought. “What?” Brock said. She winked at him. He grinned back.

* * *

“You know,” Darcy said, when they grabbed coffee after class. “There’s a random acts of kindness week in February.”

“Oh, yeah?” Brock said, setting down a cup. He’d come back to the table with her vanilla-cinnamon latte.

“I think we should celebrate it belatedly,” she told him. 

“Sure,” he said. “How?”

“Hmmm,” Darcy said. “You randomly give me a massage tonight after I randomly make you dinner?”

“Yeah, that sounds pretty random,” he said, smirking. It made his scars stretch.

“Uh-huh,” she said, nodding. “Jane’s randomly got a houseguest from Asgard, so I’m all yours tonight--”

“What about the day after that?” he said, sipping his espresso.

“Oooh, consecutive days?” Darcy asked.

“I’m randomizing our overnight pattern, sweetheart,” Brock said. “But I need to run an errand first. Without you.”

“Okay, I’m going to let that slide, because you’re really cute,” she told him.

“And you want that massage,” Brock said.

“I do,” she said happily. He took her home and they carried her groceries back to his apartment. Darcy was unpacking mushrooms and French green beans when he kissed her cheek. 

“I’ll be back, sweetheart,” Brock said.

“You better hurry,” Darcy said, teasing him.

“You gonna cook this dinner for somebody else?” Brock asked. Darcy made a face.

“Whole building’s crawling with agents,” she sassed. “So, don’t keep me waiting, Commander.”

“I love it when you call me that,” he said in a warm voice.

“Better than sir?” she asked.

“I’m gonna need to think on it,” Brock told her, before he left. He was smiling.

* * *

She’d borrowed a method for griddle cooking steak and then marinating it from Nigella Lawson, so she prepped the meat as she boiled some brown rice. Darcy decided she would play something fun and romantic, settling on a dinner playlist that blended Lila Downs, Chavela Vargas, and Natalia Lafourcade. Then she went through Brock’s wine bottles, choosing a semi-fancy La Crema chardonnay and sticking it in the fridge. Her rice was halfway done and she was humming along to Lila Down’s cover of “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps,” when Brock came back. He was carrying some shopping bags. “Hiya, good-looking,” she said happily. He disappeared into the living room for a moment, then returned to the kitchen.

“Hey,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “Can I help?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m putting you on chopping duty. Slice those red onions and trim the green beans please,” Darcy said. “Once the rice is done, the steak goes on the griddle and all these vegetables go in the wok pan. Boom, fancy dinner.”

“I’m very impressed,” he said.

“You should be, I only cook steak for people I really like,” she told him. “Also, I stole this dish from a now defunct Chinese restaurant that I miss a lot, so I might tear up a little, it’s no biggie. Don’t be alarmed.” He laughed.

“I won’t. How long you got on the rice?” he asked.

“Twelve minutes,” she said.

“C’mere,” Brock said, towing her out of the kitchen. He looked happy.

“Is this a sex thing, because I should probably turn the rice down some more?” Darcy said. “Burned rice is yuck--”

“No,” he said, laughing. “I’ve got some surprises for you.”

“Ohhhh,” Darcy said. 

“Sit,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, sitting at the table. “Do I close my eyes?”

“Sure,” he said. She closed them. “Hold out your hands.” She cupped her palms together and held them out, until two objects were placed in her grasp. “Okay,” he said. Darcy opened her eyes. She was holding a new toothbrush and a key.

“Am I looking at what I think I’m looking at?” she said.

“I figured while Thor was here, you might wanna stay over a lot,” he said. “A lot more.”

“Oh, yeah,” Darcy said. She wiggled happily. “Thank you. I especially appreciate that you got me a cute toothbrush, babe.” 

“I’m considerate like that,” he said. They were smiling at each other when he spoke again. “And, uh, this guy.” He turned and retrieved a mug from his shopping bag. It was a pink one that said Hot Stuff. “This is my random act of kindness,” Brock said. Darcy beamed, laughing.

“You’re the best,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s the mug I got me,” he joked, showing her a second one. It actually had the words in cursive. She laughed harder. “I’m gonna go chop vegetables,” he said, “you stay there, enjoy your mug.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. She turned to watch him go. “I’m very happy with our first mugs as a couple.”

“Yeah?” he called.

“This is a big moment for me, personally,” Darcy said. She stood up and walked to the edge of the kitchen. “Wait until you see my random act of kindness,” she told him, grinning.

“That right?” he said. He was chopping her onions into tiny, even pieces.

“Yup.” She came over to lean against him for a second, arms around his waist. Chavela Vargas was singing. Over the music, there was a roll of thunder. Brock paused.

“Is that, uh, his arrival?” he asked.

“Probably,” Darcy said. A moment later, there another rumble. “It sounds like him.” 

“Hey,” Brock said. “We should plan some things to do. Just us. Jane’ll be busy.”

“Yes she will,” Darcy said. “Very busy. Getting busy.” She swished her hips and he laughed. 

“Let’s eat on the couch,” she said, when dinner was ready. “Tables are so formal.” He stood and started moving plates to the coffee table. When they sat down, Brock looked at her. “What?” she asked.

“I’m still thinking about stuff we can do together. What if we make a list?” he asked. “You like lists.”

“What are you thinking?” Darcy asked. It was obvious he had an ask. She thought it would be something fun.

“We could take a cooking class together?” he offered. 

“Absolutely,” Darcy said. “But that’s not what you want to ask me, is it?” He scrunched his nose. There was a long pause. Darcy wiggled her eyebrows and ate a forkful of food.

“I know you wanted to do some non-exercise things,” he began. “But I like having you around, so, uh…..would you go to my boxing gym with me?” he asked.

“Ohhhhh,” she said. “Sure.” She couldn’t help grinning.

“What?” he said.

“I totally thought this was going to be a sex ask,” she confessed. “Like you wanted to do page fifty-five of the Kama Sutra.”

“What’s page fifty-five?” Brock said, smirking.

“I have no idea,” Darcy said. 

“Did you want to find out?” he said. She nodded.

“I could be fun. At least we’d laugh. I might need more stretching classes, though,” she said. He laughed.

“I’d take care of you,” he said.

“Here, let me,” Darcy said, grabbing his fork.

“You’re feeding me?” Brock said.

“Yup,” Darcy said happily. “I’ve always wanted to feed a really hot guy, indulge me, Commander.”

“Sure,” Brock said, shrugging. Darcy giggled as she fed him carefully. He looked nervous whenever she came towards him with the fork.

“Your face!” she said. “Do you think I’m going to stab you?”

“More people have wanted to stab me than feed me,” he said.

“Boo, I hate them,” Darcy said. “No more of that. Have a green bean.” She picked it up with her fingers instead. Brock grinned at her. “What?” she asked, intrigued by his expression.

“You’re cute and I’m fucking glad that Thor stopped by to visit Foster,” Brock said.

“Obviously,” Darcy said. “We’re adorable together. Everyone at the gym says so.”

“I didn’t think you trusted people at gyms?” Brock said lightly. She’d made jokes.

“This is my one exception,” Darcy said. 

* * *

“Just aim for the pads, okay?” Brock said, as Darcy stood in front of him, boxing gloves on. They were at his boxing gym before work. He’d helped her get fitted for gloves and headgear. He’d been very insistent about safety, which was reassuring. Also, the other boxers had been giving him shit for skipping sessions to spend time with her. That was flattering to her ego.

“Okay,” she said dubiously. “They really look bigger on other people and TV.”

“They look bigger on TV?” he said, raising his eyebrows,

“Like so many things, really,” Darcy said. She wasn’t sure if she could actually hit the pad successfully. It was just a square of foam and plastic. “Okay, I’m going.” She narrowed her eyes and swung. She grazed the top of the pad with one hand and almost lost her balance.

“You okay?” he said.

“I hit it! I hit it!” she said gleefully. 

“You did,” Brock said.

“I mean, just barely, but I know why Jane hits people now. That’s a rush. Can I do it again?” she asked. 

“Hit him again, honey!” another boxer called.

“I will, Jimmy!” Darcy yelled back. “You ready?” she asked Brock. He was smirking at her.

“You’re very cute,” he said. He thought it was even funnier when she started making noises whenever her punches landed.

“Pew-pew-pew!” Darcy said.

“That’s your punching noise?” Brock asked wryly.

“Yes,” Darcy decided. “I think it helps.”

* * *

“I love this,” Darcy said, as she felt Brock plant a kiss between her shoulder blades. She sighed happily. He’d seen her walking around at work after boxing and declared that she really needed a massage. She’d put on Natalia Lefourcade and taken her clothes off as soon as they got back to his apartment. Darcy was utterly relaxed now. Languid, she thought, that was the word. “I want to do the macaron class at that cooking place,” she said. They'd talked about it on the way home.

“Sure,” he said. “You love macarons.”

“Uh-huh. And I want to keep boxing,” she told him dreamily.

“Yeah?” he said, pausing. “You feeling better?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Darcy said. “Muscles still very sad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm overlapping with my other fics in terms of ideas/themes, but whatever, this is _established relationship_ fluffiness in this chapter, right?
> 
> I saw Lila Downs in concert once and she was fantastic, so I'm just gonna keep mentioning her in fics in case y'all haven't heard of her yet: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCDf2KTGmF4
> 
> And Natalia Lefourcade! Both her Musas albums are wonderful. This is Musas Vol. 2: Danza de Gardenias and I could listen to it forever: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a5YeGHcbySw


	7. His and Hers Cheap Dates

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Brock was picking up groceries when his cell phone rang. It was his mother, Angela. “Hey, Ma,” he said, pitching his voice low in the crowded store. “How are you?”

“Your new girlfriend knows Thor and you didn’t tell me!” Angela said. He smiled as he scanned the dairy case.

“Uh, yeah,” he said. “She knows him.” He’d mentioned Darcy to his mother in their last phone call. “He’s a good guy. You want an autograph or something? I could ask--”

“I wouldn’t want to bother his royal highness,” his mother said, sounding all fluttery. “He needs his privacy. They bother him so much, the reporters and the people with their smartphones.”

“Uh-huh,” Brock said, not wanting to argue that Thor seemed cheerfully accepting of attention. “Where do you think they keep the crème fraîche in a grocery store?” he asked. He had a list from Darcy. He didn’t understand why she wanted the stuff on it, but he’d volunteered to get them and meet her at his place.

“I just realized your Darcy is in my magazine,” his mother said urgently. “At a beer garden with him and that Dr. Foster!”

“I was, too, Ma,” Brock said. “The four of us went the other night.”

“You’re not in the picture,” she said. 

“They cropped me out?” Brock said, feeling slightly offended as he scanned around the butter.

“I think I see your arm,” his mother said. “Let me get my reading glasses. Yes, it is your arm. I see your watch. You’re holding hands with Darcy, right there in  _ Asgardians Are Just Like Us _ .” She sounded excited.

“They cut me out of the photo, huh?” he asked wryly. “At least my watch is famous.” He held the fridge case open for someone else. “Here you go,” he said. They did the whole thank you and nod routine before he found the array of cheeses. “Found it,” he told his mother.

“Why are you looking for crème fraîche?” Angela said.

“Darcy wants some,” he said. “I got a list.”

“Are you eating it?” his mother said, sounding curious. 

“A little,” he said. “She loves cheese and stuff like that. And my cholesterol is still good. We had one called Neufchâtel the other night, you’d like that--what’s wrong, Ma?” His mother had squeaked on the line.

“You love her!” she said. “You’re eating cheese!” She started laughing and clapping her hands together.

“Well, uh, yeah,” he admitted quietly. “Don’t tell Fallon.” That was his sister; she’d gloat. Or say something embarrassing about him to Darcy. He heard her laugh again. “You think she’d like raspberries--Ma, focus and stop messing with me. I’m getting the raspberries,” he decided out loud. Darcy would like raspberries. His mother sounded happy. “Raspberries and some arugula,” he said. She’d put arugula on the list. 

“When do I get to meet her?” Angela asked.

“Sometime,” he said, trying not to sound too pleased. 

* * *

He could hear music as he unlocked the door to his apartment. There was something oddly familiar about the song. “Hey, sweetheart,” Brock said, stepping inside.

“Hi!” Darcy called. He brought in the groceries and she met him in the kitchen. “Oooh, you got stuff!” she said, greeting him with a kiss. 

“Raspberries, peaches, three kinds of cheese,” he said smoothly. He leaned in to plant another kiss. Her lips were soft and plush. He felt a smug little thrill when she sighed into the kiss.

“You’re wonderful,” Darcy said. “So sweet.” She was beaming at him as they unpacked groceries.

“I try,” he said, rubbing her back. “Who is this?” He meant the person singing. “Is that Heartbreak Hotel?” he asked.

“Yup, it’s a cover by Hanni el-Khatib. All part of my theme for the evening,” she said. “Old songs by new people and new songs made to sound old.”

“We have a theme?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Today is Unexpected Things Day. We’re having breakfast for dinner and then going camping indoors.”

“Oh yeah?” he said.

“Lemme show you,” Darcy said, leading him into the living room. “Ta da!” she said. There was a camping tent set up in the living room. She’d strung the spine of the tent with lights. “Living room camping. That’s Jane’s field tent and my twinkle lights. What do you think?” Darcy asked. The TV was playing some sort of fire scene.

“This is the good kind of camping,” Brock said, nodding. She grinned at him. 

“I know! Zero bugs, very warm,” Darcy said. He tilted his head. “What?” she said.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said.

“Yeah?” she said.

“We can’t do s’mores with that fire,” he said. “I’m gonna need to figure out a s’mores plan for you, baby.”

“Okay, but let’s have fancy breakfast dinner first,” she said. “Then we can s’mores plan.”

“Yeah,” he said. 

“Waffles help me think,” Darcy told him. He washed all the fruit and cubed cheese while she mixed up waffle batter. Darcy had brought over a big platter to make what she called a “wafflestravaganza, which is the correct technical term.” She was stirring batter when she looked at him. “Did you want pecans?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Excellent, I love pecans,” she said. She mixed some into the batter, then poured part of the mixture into her waffle iron.

“My mother wants to meet you sometime,” he told her, trying to keep his voice neutral. 

“Really?” Darcy said. “Great.”

“You’re okay with that?” Brock said. 

“Mm-hmm,” she replied. Darcy nodded, then grinned widely. She looked utterly pleased.

“What?” he said.

“My mom has been drooling over you on Instagram since your were just the hot neighbor,” Darcy said. “I’m just warning you now, she’s going to pinch your ass. She’s an inveterate ass pincher, I can’t take her anywhere.”

“Yeah?” he said, laughing.

“I’m not kidding!” Darcy said. 

“Why don’t you pinch me more?” he said teasingly.

“Okay, it can go on the list,” Darcy said, passing him and peering at his arrangement of fruits and cheese. “That looks great, babe,” she said, squeezing his waist and planting a kiss on the edge of his scarred ear.

“List?’ he said.

“I’m adding  _ Pinching Brock’s Cute Butt  _ to my list of New Year’s things,” she said, disappearing into the living room. “And I found the greatest list of cheap date ideas on Pinterest.”

“I’m a cheap date?” he said wryly, as her waffle maker lit up. “Your waffle’s ready.”

“You’re not, but I am,” she said happily, coming back into the kitchen. She put on her oven mitts and opened the waffle maker. “C’mere, you waffley little bastard,” she told the waffle, trying to coax it out with rubber-tipped tongs. “Aha!”

“Put it over here, gorgeous,” Brock said. He’d grabbed a plate.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Tell me about those cheap dates,” he said, as she poured in more batter.

“Well, indoor camping for one,” she admitted. “That’s from the list. Go glamping indoors.”

“Why is it glamping?” he asked.

“Because I put twinkle lights and my good throw blanket,” she sassed. “Those are glamorous.”

They made a list of future cheap dates after they’d eaten waffles. Snuggled inside the tent, Darcy drew something up in a notebook. “What do you think of buying a bunch of kinds of cereal and having a cereal night?”

“Sure,” he said calmly. Rollins would rag the hell out of him, Brock thought, if he knew about cereal night.

“I want to do something with googly eyes,” Darcy said. 

“What?”

“I dunno, I just think they’re fun,” she said.

  
  


_ Darcy and Brock’s Cheap Date Ideas _

  1. Indoor Glamping
  2. Cereal Taste-Testing (Darcy: “I’ll find you some with like, nuts and stuff you like.”)
  3. Go to a DC museum (Brock: “You’re gonna class me all up, sweetheart.”)
  4. Googly eyes? (Brock: “You just giggled when you wrote that.”)
  5. Bubble bath together (Darcy: “You giggled then.”)
  6. More boxing?? (Brock: “Why two question marks?” Darcy: “I’m not that good!” Brock: “Sure you are.”)
  7. Movie at a weird time (Darcy: “Like three in the afternoon, it’s fun.”)
  8. More painting (Brock: “I wanna do some more of those.”)
  9. Cheese tasting (Darcy: “We’ve sort of been doing that already”)



  
  


“I owe you a few massages, too!” Darcy called from inside the tent, when he’d gotten up to refill their drinks. Brock laughed. 

“Put ‘em on the list,” he said. He stopped. “I’ve got an idea for your s’mores, sweetheart,” he called out. He’d had a thought while standing in front of the oven. Darcy stuck her head out of the tent.

“Open faced s’mores, oven broiler,” Brock said, taking out a sheet pan.

“You’re a genius,” Darcy said.

“It’s why I’ve got all these work commendations, my s’mores work,” Brock said wryly, unrolling some aluminium foil.

“You deserve more awards,” Darcy said, sighing, fifteen minutes later. She was eating warm s’mores in the tent. He grinned as he sipped some prosecco. “These are wonderful,” she told him. “You’d make a really good camp counselor or whatever.” The TV fire was crackling. It gave Brock an idea.

“You want me to tell you a scary story?” he asked, kissing her neck. 

“Not right now,” Darcy said, licking her thumb clean. 

“No?” he said, confused. She was beaming at him.

“I want you to know that I like you more than I like those s’mores,” she said, reaching for his shirt. “And I’m going to demonstrate with my actions, like the love languages people say.”

“Oh,” he said. 

“Took your a second,” she teased.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize your were done with s’mores. Lemme get this off,” he said, raising his arms to pull off his shirt. The ensuing shedding of clothes accidentally took down the tent. “Shit,” Brock said. “You okay?”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, giggling. He had to prop it back up with her planting kisses on his torso.

“This is very distracting and possibly unsafe,” he said jokingly, looking down at where she was smacking kisses on his back.

“You can sue me for all my worldly possessions--but not my Squishmallows,” Darcy said wryly. “Leonard and I shall not be parted.”

“You left him across the hall, that’s grounds for neglect,” Brock said.

“Pffht,” Darcy said, wrapping her arms around his waist and blowing a raspberry against his neck.

  
  


* * *

“Hey, mate,” Rollins said, when they walked back into the STRIKE Alpha offices after a meeting. “There’s something on your desk.”

“Yeah?” Brock said. He’d stopped to speak to another agent. “I’ve got this cover of Heartbreak Hotel stuck in my head--” he was saying, when he saw the items on his desk. He grinned to himself. “She snuck in here,” he told Rollins.

“Who?” Jack said.

“Darcy,” he said. “Apparently, it’s my turn to pick the movie and dinner tonight. She left me a menu”---there was a list of options he was supposed to checkmark-- “and screenshots from possible movies.”

“Which ones?” Jack said.

“I don’t fucking know,” he said, laughing. “It’s just photos of Liam Neeson, the Rock, and Judi Dench?” He cracked up a little.

“What’s that?” Jack asked, pointing. 

“She put googly eyes on my computer,” he said, shaking his head. She’d stuck the eyes around the webcam light. He was laughing when Jack cleared his throat.

“There’s a choice of desserts on the back, mate,” he said slowly. Brock turned the sheet over. On one side, there was a photo of a chocolate chip cookie. Opposite the chocolate chip cookie, there was a photo of Darcy in a bikini.

“Jesus,” Brock said, unable to shake his grin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old songs made new, Heartbreak Hotel edition: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gHnMf_hruaA


End file.
